


Spa Day

by lecriteuse



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crushes, F/F, Gen, Pre-Femslash, Pre-Slash, Spa Treatments, indulgent fluff, it's spa day, non-sexual nudity, relax darling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10465632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecriteuse/pseuds/lecriteuse
Summary: Josephine works too hard. Vivienne treats her to a full day of relaxation and beautification.(And possibly, relaxed and beautified, Josephine manages to catch the eye of a certain Seeker....)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweettasteofbitter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/gifts).



> This was intended to be a Wintersend treat, but that didn't happen for various reasons, but it exists because of the wonderful @sweettasteofbitter. One of their Wintersend prompts asked for Josephine being treated to a spa day, and I thought: YES, yes, she absolutely deserves it! And @sweettasteofbitter deserves a treat, because they are an excellent person.
> 
> Also, this is incredibly self-indulgent, basically one long wish-fulfillment for me. I love a spa, and this is kind of my ideal day.... I hope you enjoy it too.

Josephine stares at the page that has been deposited on her desk in front of her, almost as though she can cause it to vanish by the sheer force of her incredulity. Stubbornly, the page persists; Josephine reaches out her left hand — her pen still firmly held in the right, poised above the paperwork she’d been doing — and gracefully but firmly slides the page away. “I really am ever so grateful,” she says, “but I truly cannot accept.”

“My dear, I absolutely insist,” Vivienne replies. Her tone is that of a woman graciously accepting her opponent’s acquiescence, as though Josephine has already agreed to her proposal.

“I’m afraid I — ”

“Really, you’d be doing me a favour. The Serene Sanctuary is an elite establishment. One does not simply _cancel_ a reservation, especially not this close to the designated date. If I were to do so, I would be blacklisted by _all_ the best spas, not to mention by the merchants who deal in the most exclusive aesthetic and restorative products in southern Thedas. It would be absolutely unthinkable.” The mage allows a single small crease of worry to emerge between her sculpted eyebrows, and the tiniest downturn of the mouth, to indicate her (supposed) distress. “No, if I were to cancel, at this point, the consequences don’t bear thinking about. However,” she goes on, her tone becoming hopeful, “if I can transfer my reservation to someone of sufficient standing, it will not be held against me. Please, Josephine — I really am in a rather dire situation, and you’re the only person who can help me.”

Josephine means to refuse. She has far too many responsibilities to spend an entire day at a luxury Orlesian spa. She has already wasted too much time in frivolities, since coming to Val Royeaux with the Inquisitor and a number of the Inquisition’s companions and advisors… a bit of shopping, catching up with university friends over coffee, a glorious hour spent just standing at the pier and watching the water… she already feels guilty. The Inquisition is in Val Royeaux for business and for diplomatic meetings, and Josephine is possibly the busiest of the entire party. No, it is unconscionable that she would even _consider_ Vivienne’s proposal.

“Look, I have already transferred the reservation to your name,” Vivienne says, gently sliding the page back toward Josephine. “See? They’re expecting you.”

Josephine sighs. “Lady Vivienne, this is….” She glances down at the page; sees her name in elegant calligraphy, sees the list of treatments that have been scheduled; she abruptly pulls her eyes back to meet Vivienne’s. “As I was saying, I cannot… I really should be focusing on the documentation for the Levèsque negotiations….”

Vivienne does not smile, does not give any outward sign, but she has won, and she knows it. And Josephine knows that she knows it. But propriety requires a few more thrusts and ripostes, and so Vivienne says, “Darling, you work too hard. I don’t believe I have ever seen you without a pen in hand, whether at your desk or with your writing board. It’s important to take the time to care for one’s self.”

Josephine gives Vivienne an appraising look. “And you think I do not… care for myself… adequately?”

“Not in the ways I mean,” Vivienne says smoothly. “Your self-presentation is, of course, always impeccable. Every hair in place, beautifully and subtly made up, outfits chosen for the maximum impact — really, everything about your look is admirable. But I’m speaking of something more… essential. Something that is perhaps lacking in your daily routine. Something… _sensual_.”

Josephine stiffens slightly. 

Vivienne picks up on this immediately. “Darling, I don’t mean _that_ ,” she says, meeting Josephine’s gaze. “Partnered intimacy is its own kind of self-care, for those who desire it. But I do not mean that, at all,” she adds, “and I apologize for the implication — it was clumsy of me, and I regret the imposition. What I mean to say is that a spa day at a truly good establishment can help one to reconnect with one’s self, with one’s body, with one’s own senses. One comes away refreshed, renewed, rejuvenated. Less distracted. More focused.”

Josephine glances down at the page before her. “Well….”

“Thank you, my dear Josephine. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this for me,” Vivienne says, smiling and rising from her seat. “Your itinerary is all there; just present that paper at the spa’s lobby when you arrive. The private carriage will come to collect you at nine bells tomorrow morning. Don’t be late — you won’t want to miss a minute of it, I promise you!” Vivienne smiles as she glides out of the small room Josephine has commandeered as her office.

Josephine picks up the page and reads it.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* The Serene Sanctuary *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

welcomes

Ambassador Josephine Cherette Montilyet

~

Your personalized itinerary:

Nevarran sauna cycle

refreshment break

relaxation massage

private luncheon (grotto)

face and body rejuvenation

hand and foot beautification

hair setting and ornamentation

refreshment and reintegration

~

Carriage pickup at 9 bells

Dropoff at 18 bells (estimated)

If she is being honest with herself, Josephine’s heart thrills just a tiny bit at the itinerary. It has been many years since she was able to indulge in such luxuries, and she has _never_ had an experience even remotely as lavish as this, not even in Antiva City. Oh, it is so very selfish… but she finds she is almost _desperately_ looking forward to this, to an _entire day_ in which there will be no demands made of her, no pressures, no expectations. She cannot recall the last time she had such a day.

And she will be back in plenty of time to attend the diplomatic ball being thrown by the current Antivan ambassador to Orlais. Josephine knows that she can reasonably lose one day of paperwork, but the ball is one of the main reasons the Inquisition is in Val Royeaux to begin with. It will, Josephine reflects, be rather nice to be able to arrive relaxed and rested….

Yes, she thinks. Tomorrow will be very, very pleasant indeed.

*＊✿❀✿＊*

The carriage is already waiting when Josephine walks through the front doors of the Inquisition’s Val Royeaux quarters. It is an elegant vehicle, not ostentatious or showy as some Val Royeauxian carriages are wont to be, but beautifully shaped, clad in dark lacquered wood with subtle gilded details. The footman opens the door for her, relieves her of her small travelling case, and hands her into the carriage. The interior is as tasteful as the exterior, comfortable and plush. Josephine spends the trip to the spa looking happily out the window, taking a quiet and slightly disgraceful pleasure in knowing people are seeing this beautiful carriage, perhaps wondering who is in it….

The carriage pulls through a guarded gate into a small courtyard, stopping near the large front doors of the building. The footman once again holds open the door and helps her out of the carriage, while an attendant whisks her travelling case away, and yet another attendant opens the front door and beckons her in. “Welcome to The Serene Sanctuary, Ambassador,” he says.

Josephine smiles to herself. She can hardly remember being so relaxed, and she hasn’t even made it through the front doors yet!

Once she _is_ inside, she pauses to look around and appreciate the beauty of the lobby. The space is expansive and airy and welcoming, the high walls of smooth plaster lined with tiles. A fountain somewhere produces the musical sound of falling water, beautiful large potted plants are clustered throughout the space, and sunlight pours in through the tall windows. Josephine takes it all in, feeling tension drop from her shoulders; it is so different from anywhere she might go for her work, from anywhere she might need to be vigilant and reactive, and she finds herself sinking into the feeling of relief as she might sink into a warm bath.

Before she can even look for the registration desk, a woman has approached her. “Ambassador Montilyet, welcome to The Serene Sanctuary. Please come and take a seat,” she says, gesturing toward a small table and comfortably padded chairs tucked discreetly behind an array of plants. She sits across from the woman, who takes up a writing board and pen. “Your dressing room is being prepared for you,” the woman tells Josephine, “and your personal attendant will be here momentarily. Do you have any requests or concerns?”

“I don’t think so,” Josephine replies. “I should only mention — I must be at a ball this evening, so I cannot linger too long here.”

“How wonderful. What time would the ball be starting?”

“Seventeen bells, although….”

“You would not be looking to arrive until later, of course.” The woman smiles. “If you prefer, you may prepare here, prior to departing. I would recommend it; your hair and cosmetics will be fresh, and matched to your ensemble.”

“I… did not bring my gown or any of my things,” Josephine says, “I only brought a few necessities.”

“We will send an attendant to collect your ensemble, Ambassador. We would not wish you to feel rushed at the end of your stay with us.”

“Oh, really, that’s — not necessary.”

The woman gives Josephine a significant look. “This is a full service spa, Ambassador Montilyet. Our mandate is to serve our clients’ every need, in order for you to become fully relaxed and rejuvenated… but forgive me, I had forgetten that your reservation was transferred, and you may not be entirely familiar with our services. Please rest assured that fetching an evening ensemble, and handling the return of your day outfit, is simply a service that is included in your reservation as a matter of course.”

“Ah!” Josephine says. “Well… it would certainly be a relief, not to have to rush, and to be able to go directly to the ball….”

“Perfect,” the woman says. “I believe you will find yourself very refreshed and well-prepared for your engagement this evening. The Serene Sanctuary is also dedicated to maintaining discretion and quietude for our clients, many of whom are frequently beset with busy-ness and demands in their everyday lives. Your sojourn with us is intended as a break from such things, a time to retreat and rest in calmness,” she says, with a glance behind Josephine. “Your attendant, Arriette, is here. She will be on hand throughout your stay, and will guide you through your itinerary and help you with anything whatsoever that you require. I will take your letter of registration…” she says expectantly. Josephine retrieves the paper from her pocketbook and hands it over. “Thank you. Please enjoy your time with us. I will leave you in Arriette’s capable hands.”

Josephine turns to face Arriette, a smiling elf woman with her dark hair pulled back into a sleek bun, wearing a simple shift and trousers made of crisp white cloth. “Greetings, Ambassador. It will be my pleasure to serve you today. If you have any questions or concerns, or there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask — I am here to ensure your enjoyment and relaxation. First, I will take you to your dressing room. Follow me, please.”

Arriette leads Josephine through quiet corridors to a cozy, windowless room. The gentle light of several candles fills the modest space, which is appointed with cabinets for clothing, a dressing table and chair, and a plush-looking divan. Her traveling case, she sees, has already been set on a cunning little folding luggage rack.

As Josephine was looking around, Arriette received a tea service from an unseen person in the hallway, which she sets on a corner of the dressing table. As she pours a cup of tea, she says, “It is suggested that you enjoy some tea and sweets before the Nevarran sauna cycle, as a refreshment and to prepare you for the physical stimulation of the saunas.” She steps back, pointing out certain amenities. “You are requested to go barefoot in the spa, and be unclothed for your treatments; we have provided you with a robe for your stay. Fresh robes will be provided throughout your stay, when you require them. I will leave you now, so that you may change, and enjoy your sweets.” She indicates a small chain set into the wall near the door. “Ring this to summon me at any time.” With that, she departs, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Josephine looks around and smiles. It is all so pleasing, and so relaxing, already! The fragrance of the beeswax from the candles mingles with the minty steam of the tea, and she finds herself breathing deeply, enjoying the luxury of such scents.

In short order, she has removed her clothing and stowed it in one of the cabinets, wrapped herself in the opulently soft white robe, then seated herself on the divan to sip a cup of the sweetened mint tea, and nibble on one of the sweet-jelly confections. The room is very quiet, warm, and utterly tranquil. She savours each sensation, eating, drinking, resting, reclining in complete relaxation.

She is somewhat hypnotically watching the candle flames when Arriette knocks softly on the door. At Josephine’s quiet invitation, Arriette slips inside. She has a large white towel draped over one arm. “If you are ready,” she says, “we will go to the women’s saunas.”

As they walk, Arriette explains: “We have taken the rather austere traditional saunas favoured by Nevarran nobility, and adapted them to be luxurious and pleasurable, as well as restorative. The recommended cycle is to spend a period of time in the dry sauna or the steam room, allowing the heat to penetrate deeply; then avail yourself of one of the ice-water plunge pools, to rapidly cool the body. Following this, it is recommended that you take time to rest. The next phase of the cycle is identical, though it is recommended that one alternate between the dry sauna and the steam room, in order to get the full benefits of each.” 

They occasionally pass other white-clad attendants, some of them with robe-wrapped clients in tow. Voices are kept low, and eye contact is avoided. Josephine relishes all of this, the quietude, the privacy and respect, the utter lack of demands being placed on her.

When they arrive at the entrance to the sauna, Arriette escorts her inside, hands her the towel, and then retreats, leaving Josephine to discover the space for herself. The main room of the sauna suite is dimly lit with candles, and the sound of falling water prevails. Josephine sees, to one side, a number of bodies lying prone on soft-looking pads, wrapped in white robes identical to hers. 

A door opens, and a cloud of eucalyptus-scented steam wafts out, followed by the figure of a naked woman, who quickly wraps herself in one of the robes hanging by the door to the steam room. The woman proceeds to a set of several sunken pools with mounds of ice floating on the surface. She disrobes, appears to brace herself, then quickly lowers herself into the water, gasping, ducking under the surface once, twice, and then rapidly hauling herself out. She re-wraps herself in the robe, then makes her way to the far side of the room, to one of the pads, upon which she gracefully sinks down.

Looking around, Josephine spots the door to the dry sauna, a station with chilled water and hot tea, extra towels piled near a large hamper, and the warm pool (with an artificial waterfall) where bathers can relax in between phases of the cycle.

Well. Josephine has been in public baths, of course. Those at Skyhold are especially hot, the water very pleasant. But she has never been in a sauna, nor a steam room. She is unsure about the sauna and steam room, and so she tries the warm pool first, slipping out of her robe and climbing in. The water is not as hot as that at Skyhold, but it is soft against the skin. She runs her hands under the rushing water of the waterfall, and allows herself to float freely for a few minutes when no one else is in the pool.

After some time, she decides she might as well _try_ the sauna. She quickly dries herself with the towel and puts her robe back on. Knowing she will want a dry towel to sit upon in the sauna, she helps herself to a fresh towel, and a cup of tea, before heading to the door to the sauna. She hangs her robe and quickly lets herself inside.

In the sauna room, the air is so hot it hurts Josephine’s nose; it takes her many minutes to become accustomed to it. She lays her towel on one of the wooden benches, as others have done, and sits. The air is very, very hot, and dry. Even when one of the other sauna clients tosses a ladle-full of eucalyptus-scented water onto the coals of one of the braziers, the resulting steam seems to make the air _hotter_ , but not any less _dry_ , somehow. Josephine is not entirely enjoying this, but knows that this is meant to be a rejuvenating wellness experience, and so she perseveres.

When the people who were in the sauna upon Josephine’s arrival have left, she decides she has had enough roasting, and leaves. She quickly wraps herself in her robe and walks to one of the ice pools. She is more than a little tempted to skip this step — she has had plenty of experience with frigid temperatures in the Frostbacks, and she is _not_ fond of being chilled. Submerging herself in ice water is quite possibly the _last_ thing she would willingly do in this place.

…But, she is very, very hot from the sauna. And she knows that this stage of the sauna cycle is considered absolutely necessary, to balance the sensations.

She slips off her robe, and tentatively dips a foot into the pool. _Maker_ , the water is absolutely _glacial_. Josephine once again reconsiders, but… she is already here, by the pool, disrobed. No: she will be brave. She grasps the rail beside the pool and steps off the edge, into the water, sinking in up to her shoulders. She gasps with the cold, so intense and enveloping she thinks her heart may stop, and she hauls herself out almost immediately.

Unlike in the Frostbacks, the sudden chill does not seem to have penetrated Josephine’s body… not in a bad way, at least. She is no longer sweating from the sauna, and, in fact, she feels very refreshed. She towels herself off and then puts on her robe, helps herself to a cup of chilled water, and sinks down on one of the pads to rest. 

Sipping her water — infused with mint and cucumber slices — Josephine realizes that she feels _extraordinary_. Her body is thrumming with energy, yet also deeply relaxed. She finishes her water, and lays back on the pad, dozing a bit. The suite is quiet; no one speaks or interacts with one another, and the sound of footfalls and other motion is masked by the falling water. It is deeply restful. Josephine thinks, blissfully, of nothing, and slumbers lightly.

When her energy returns, she rises, fetches herself a fresh towel, and decides to try the steam room. As with the dry sauna, it is not entirely comfortable, the eucalyptus-fragrant steam so thick that Josephine cannot breathe effortlessly for the first few minutes. As with the dry sauna, she stays as long as she thinks reasonable, then avails herself of an iced plunge pool. This time, she manages to stay in the ice-water a bit longer, even ducking her head under the water as she has seen others do. It feels agonizing while she does it… but when she emerges, she is once again filled with a serene refreshment, even deeper this time. 

Josephine rests, has more water, then performs another dry sauna cycle. Followed by a steam room cycle. Then she chooses to go back into the warm pool, floating, blissfully relaxed in every way. Sitting so that the waterfall washes over her shoulders, Josephine thinks, _who knew that intense heat, followed by frigid cold, could be so restorative?_ (Obviously, the Nevarrans, they knew. She wonders idly what other beauty and wellness secrets they might be hiding. Perhaps she will ask Cassandra one day….)

Arriette is standing in the main room when Josephine emerges from the pool. The attendant gestures to Josephine in a way that is both an invitation to follow her out, and an inquiry as to whether Josephine is ready for the next treatment. Although Josephine now thinks she could happily spend an entire morning, an entire _day_ going through the sauna cycles, she knows it is likely past time for her to move on with her itinerary.

Arriette leads Josephine through hallways and up stairs, to a pleasant space with large, high windows that overlook the city. She directs Josephine to a changing area, where Josephine puts on a fresh robe, and wraps her damp hair in a towel. Then Arriette leads Josephine to a relatively private lounge chair, where Josephine can sit and gaze out at Val Royeaux. As Arriette retreats, a servant glides toward Josephine, setting on the small table beside her a large goblet — almost a glass bowl on a pedestal — full of something red and luscious-looking, rimmed with slices of citrus and a small decorative paper umbrella. Josephine takes a careful sip of the beverage; it is wonderfully delicious, refreshingly sweet, ripe-tasting, nourishing. The servant has also left a small bowl of what turn out to be spiced nuts. Josephine does not think she is hungry, but the nuts and most of the drink are gone in short order. 

Josephine lays back in the chair, sipping the last of her drink, and tries to remember what is next on her itinerary… a massage, she thinks. Well, it will be pleasant — Josephine has not had a proper massage for many years, and she remembers enjoying the few she has had, when such treatments were fashionable among her circle. But Josephine is so relaxed from her sauna cycle, she is not sure a massage will accomplish much more in that respect!

Arriette comes to Josephine as she is finishing the last drops of her drink, twirling the little paper umbrella between her fingers, feeling perfectly refreshed. “Was your _collation_ to your liking?” Arriette asks.

“Oh! Yes, very much.”

“Your luncheon will be served after your massage treatment; however, if you would like more food or drink brought to you immediately…?”

“Thank you, no, this was quite sufficient.”

Arriette gives a low nod, almost a bow, then gestures for Josephine to follow her. “Your masseuse is ready for you now.”

The massage room is quiet and dim, very similar to Josephine’s first dressing room here, lit by candles. It smells of beeswax and clean herbs. There is a padded table in the middle of the room, covered in white sheets. Arriette steps aside to let another person into the room, a sturdy-looking human woman dressed in the same white shift and trousers as the other attendants. “I will be waiting here in the hallway when your treatment is complete,” she says, and quietly closes the door behind her.

The masseuse does not introduce herself. She looks Josephine up and down, appraisingly. “Is there any part of your body where you hold tension, or feel chronic pain?” she asks.

“Ah, not that I… well, I suppose my shoulders. But only because I spend much of my time at a desk.”

The woman nods, as though Josephine has confirmed something. “Please, disrobe, and make yourself comfortable on the table, face-down, and cover yourself with a sheet,” she says as she makes to leave the room. “I will knock before re-entering,” she adds, and closes the door.

Josephine does as ordered, fitting her face into the round opening at one end of the table — she remembers this much from her few previous massages — and laying the sheet over her body. When the masseuse knocks, Josephine invites her in. In silence, the woman adjusts the table, pulls the sheet back to expose Josephine’s back, pours some oil into her hands — Josephine can smell it, herbal and soothing — and then begins.

The woman’s hands are exceedingly strong, and gentle. She finds every knot of tension in Josephine’s shoulders and back, in her hips and her legs, in her arms and hands, and smooths it all out with rhythmic motions. More than once, Josephine nods off, gently waking when the woman moves to a different body part. The woman only speaks to instruct Josephine to roll over onto her back. She adjusts the table once more, making sure Josephine’s head and knees are supported, and then she performs the same wonderful techniques on Josephine’s chest, the fronts of her legs, and (very gently) on her belly, always judiciously ensuring that Josephine’s breasts and private parts are carefully covered by the sheet. Finally, she carefully massages Josephine’s neck and jaw, stretching her out, then laying her back down upon the table and tucking the sheet back over her.

“How do you feel?” she asks Josephine.

“Very relaxed, thank you,” Josephine murmurs, feeling half-asleep.

“Good,” the woman says. She pushes lightly on the tops of Josephine’s shoulders, as though testing or measuring something. She makes a satisfied sound. “Your shoulders are much more even, now, and they won’t be up around your ears any more.” She steps back. “Past this curtain here is a cubicle for showering off the oil; pull on the rope once to start the water, and again to stop it. When you are finished, your attendant will be waiting for you in the hallway. Take your time in rising, and move slowly, at first.” She gives one of those nod-bows, and leaves.

Josephine showers off the oil; her skin feels marvellously silky, and her entire body feels deeply relaxed… balanced, strong, free from the aches and pains Josephine had perhaps not entirely been aware of. In the hallway, Arriette meets her. “If you are ready,” she says, “your luncheon awaits.”

She leads Josephine through more hallways, and they climb another staircase into a room that is just _filled_ with plants in pots, like an orangerie: trees and shrubs, hanging vines and orchids clinging to their branches, with lush flowers and ferns at the bases of the trees. Josephine cannot see the walls of the place, so thick is the greenery. As Arriette leads Josephine through a winding path, she hears birdsong. There are large and delicate-looking cages in the upper branches, and beautiful birds sit in them. Arriette takes her to a clearing among the trees, to where a set table and chair are waiting. She pulls out the chair for Josephine. “I will return for you when your meal is over,” she says, vanishing back through the trees.

Josephine looks around at the gorgeous verdure, smelling the air that is very faintly perfumed with the scents of green and growing things. Her chair is comfortable, and there is a soft footstool under the table so that her bare feet need not rest on the cool tiled floor while she sits. Before she has time to wonder what to do, a servant glides into the clearing through the trees, bearing a pitcher. She fills Josephine’s water goblet, then smiles and says, “I will be your server for luncheon. The chef has prepared a tasting menu with the finest ingredients from today’s market; however, we can also prepare a luncheon to your specifications if you prefer…?”

“The set menu will be perfect,” Josephine says, delighted.

The servant nods and retreats, returning shortly with a laden tray. Before Josephine, she sets ten tiny dishes and bowls, naming each one: “This is traditional Heartlands bisque… chilled winter grains dressed with Verchielian vinaigrette… seared whitefish with herbed _crème fraiche_ … roasted squash with blueberry compote….” 

Josephine cannot remember exactly what everything is, but it is all exquisitely made, delicious, and perfectly presented. Each dish is no more than three mouthfuls, and so she is able to finish every morsel without feeling over-full. Within moments of Josephine finishing, the servant comes and whisks the empty dishes away. She then returns with a dish of deeply chilled sorbet, three perfect little balls made with different fruits. Finally, the servant brings a tea service, and pours the first cup for Josephine before retreating. Josephine sips the tea — a tisane, really, a blend of fragrant herbs that will aid digestion — and looks around, appreciating anew the musical birdsong, the rustling of the greenery. If there are other diners nearby, other attendants and servants, they are invisible and silent to Josephine. It is as though she is in her own private rainforest, albeit a luxurious one with plush seating and a soft footstool, in which she is served marvellous food and delicious post-prandial tea.

Arriette appears as Josephine sets her teacup aside. “Was the luncheon to your liking?”

“Oh, yes, everything was simply wonderful.”

“Our chef will be very glad to hear it,” Arriette replies. “And are you satisfied with your treatments so far?”

“Very much so!” Josephine says.

“Wonderful. I should let you know that our staff have fetched your ensemble for this evening. Ah, I am afraid that there was a… unexpected occurrence.” Arriette looks less than perfectly serene for the first time that day. “Madame Vivienne de Fer, who I believe booked this reservation originally, had left very explicit instructions with the Inquisition servants. She has selected a gown for you, with all the requisite accessories, and was apparently insistent that it be provided for you, rather than the ensemble you had laid out.”

Josephine is rather startled by this. It is rather shocking that Vivienne would impose in this way… though perhaps “shocking” is not the right word. This _is_ Vivienne, after all. And whatever gown she has selected on Josephine’s behalf will, at least, be exquisitely fashionable. Josephine sighs. There is obviously no point in worrying about such things now. The gown will be fine — Vivienne would, if nothing else, not risk the Inquisition’s reputation at tonight’s ball by allowing Josephine to appear in anything objectionable — and Josephine shall put it out of her head and enjoy the rest of her spa day.

“That will be acceptable,” she tells Arriette. “I’m sure that Madame de Fer will have selected something appropriate.”

Arriette looks relieved. “Thank you for your understanding, Ambassador.” She seems to slip back into her usual calm and helpful demeanour. “Now, the rest of your stay with us will be taken up with beautification treatments. You are scheduled first for a full-body scrub, followed by a body wrap. Our attendants are all very discreet, and there is no direct touching of intimate body parts, but some clients prefer to wear a shift for this kind of treatment….”

Josephine waves her hand to indicate that she is comfortable with being bare for such a procedure. The staff here will be absolutely discreet and respectful in touching her, she is certain.

“Very good. While you are relaxing in your body wrap, you will receive a facial rejuvenation treatment. Then you will have the opportunity to wash. After that, you will have your hands, feet, and nails attended to. Then you will have the opportunity to relax and enjoy some refreshment. Finally, your hair and cosmetics will be set — it is recommended you dress before this, so that the style can be matched to your ensemble.”

Josephine smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

Arriette leads Josephine to a room very similar to the massage room — complete with a curtained partition off to one side — but rather larger, with a lounge chair, several stools, and myriad cabinets and shelves containing intriguing-looking bottles, pots, and jars. The sound of flowing water is coming from somewhere. A human woman is in the room; as Arriette departs, the woman says, “Welcome, Ambassador. I will be attending to your body rejuvenation. First,” she says, drawing aside the curtain, “there will be a self-administered scrub.” The partition contains more than space for showering, Josephine sees. There is a tiled fountain through which clear water continuously flows. A low stool sits next to the fountain, and two bowls, one empty and one heaped with what looks like coarse salt, are placed on the fountain’s edge. “You can use this stool; take some of the scrub, which contains mineral salts, dried rose petals, and rose oil. Rub in circular motions, all over your body, then rinse it off using this bowl, and fresh water from the fountain here. When you are ready, let me know. Then I will apply the wrap.” She retreats, drawing the curtain behind her.

The scrub smells beautiful, and is very invigorating. Josephine finds that it makes her skin very, very soft. She judiciously rubs it all over her body, reaching around to her back, rubbing it over her feet, carefully scrubbing her hands. When she is finished, and fully rinsed herself and gently towelled herself dry, she calls out, “I am ready,” and the woman returns, carrying a tray piled with strips of linen, and a deep bowl full of something opaque and viscous.

“This is a mixture of ingredients to soothe and smooth the skin,” she says, carefully soaking one of the linen strips. “Precious oils, clay from the Sulfur Lakes, mineral salts, and plant essences.” It smells rich and decadent, Josephine thinks, watching the woman gently wring the linen. “I will wrap soaked linen strips around you, then we will get you settled in the treatment room.” As expected, the woman is perfectly professional, her affect neutral as she wraps the linen around every part of Josephine, her hands seldom touching Josephine directly and never touching her anywhere near any private areas of her body.

Josephine feels a little absurd, wrapped like a Nevarran mummy. She carefully walks back to the treatment room, where large towels have been draped over the lounge chair. She seats herself, and the attendant wraps the towels around her, from shoulder to toes, then covers her with a heavy blanket. It is immensely comforting.

Another attendant enters then, a young elven man. He briefly asks her if she has any sensitivities or concerns about the skin on her face — she replies in the negative — before he sets to work. He runs his hands gently over Josephine’s face, apparently gauging its qualities. He then mixes up a number of concoctions from the jars and bottles in the room, applying one after another to Josephine’s face, massaging some in, letting others sit on her face for many minutes, rinsing and washing and laying warm soaked cloths over her face. It feels gloriously extravagant to be fussed over like this, as Josephine lies warm and comfortable on the lounge chair. Finally, the young man smooths an emulsion over Josephine’s face. “That treatment is meant to be left on,” he tells her. “Try not to get your face wet when you are washing off after the wrap is removed.” With a nod-bow, the young man leaves.

The woman, who had been sitting silently in the room, comes forward and removes the blanket, then the towels that cover Josephine. She feels like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. The woman leads her to the partition, and helps her remove all the linen strips. “The shower is the same as before, pull the rope once to start the water, once to stop,” the woman says. “You should wash your hair, to be sure it is clean and ready to be set, later. After, dry your skin only a little; you want it to still be a bit damp. Then you should apply some of this rose oil,” she says, gesturing to a small bowl next to the fountain, “and put your robe on. The attendants for your hands and feet will be here shortly.”

Josephine can feel the concoction the linen strips were soaked in still clinging to her skin. Showering it off feels wonderful. Her skin is so soft, she can hardly stop touching her own arms. Even royal sea-silk is not so smooth, so lovely. The rose oil smells wonderful, like fresh roses in a garden, and Josephine applies every last drop, smoothing it on every part of her skin. She feels absolutely beautiful, present in her own body in a way she hasn’t felt for a very long time.

She dons her robe, wraps her hair in a towel, and pulls aside the curtain. Two attendants, human women, are waiting. “Please, have a seat,” one says, smiling. Josephine settles onto the lounge chair, and the woman who had spoken raises the armrests on either side. “We will be tending to your hands and feet, and your nails,” she says. “The treatment is intended to soften and soothe the skin, and then to smooth and shape the nails. We can also lacquer your nails, if you like…?”

Josephine shakes her head. Although she knows lacquered nails to be fashionable in some circles, and she has seen Vivienne wear lacquered nails to great effect, Josephine finds them to be rather garish.

“Very well. We will simply shape your nails to follow their natural forms.”

As with the facial treatment, these attendants mix a variety of blends from the bottles and jars in the room. While one tends to her hands, the other tends to her feet. Josephine closes her eyes and relaxes, needing to do absolutely nothing in order for this to happen. It is marvellous. Although she has already had a number of relaxing treatments this day, something about the massaging of her hands and feet is utterly gratifying. She sighs in pleasure, over and over again. Her nails are buffed and filed, and then fragrant emulsions are rubbed into her hands and feet, and drops of precious oil onto her nails.

Finally, the attendants take their leave, nod-bowing. Arriette enters the room as they leave. “How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Splendid,” Josephine replies, smiling. 

“Good,” Arriette replies. “At this time, it is recommended that you enjoy some refreshment, and relax, before getting dressed and having your hair and face done. There is light fare available, and tea, as well as wine or brandy….”

Josephine tilts her head. “This morning, I had an absolutely wonderful drink. Some sort of fruit juice…?”

“Ah, yes. I can have that brought to you, or something similar with different fruits, if you like?”

“That would be just delightful,” Josephine says.

“Then please, follow me,” Arriette says. She leads Josephine back through hallways and down a staircase, until they are in the room with the lounge chairs and the large windows overlooking Val Royeaux. At this time of day, the light is pink-blue, and there are candles and torches starting to be lit in many windows. Josephine, feeling beautiful and relaxed, settles onto the chair Arriette directs her to, and allows her mind to pleasantly drift as she watches the rooftops, the slowly drifting clouds that change colour every minute….

Almost without Josephine noticing, a servant approaches and sets on the table next to her a large goblet, this time filled with something pale green, rimmed with a slice of melon and garnished with another of those charming paper umbrellas. Next to it is set a plate with what looks to be more spiced nuts, as well as a number of different cheeses, and dried berries and apricots. Josephine sips the beverage — it is mellow and sweet, luscious and satisfying. She spends a very enjoyable time looking out over the city, eating the simple food, sipping her drink.

Eventually, Arriette returns, as the colour of the sky is beginning to deepen. “I will take you to your dressing room now,” she says. She looks a little nervous, and Josephine remembers that the gown Vivienne selected for her will be waiting. She wonders what it will be like… she is far too content and relaxed to feel overly worried about it, though.

They pass through hallways and down staircases, coming once more to Josephine’s dressing room. Inside, several lamps have been brought in, instead of the candles from this morning, presumably to assist in dressing. Josephine enters, sees the gown hanging from one of the cabinets, and she gasps. This is not one of her gowns, as she had originally thought. This is an entirely new gown, that Josephine has never seen before. It is cut in a timeless style, with a fitted bodice, full sleeves, a spreading floor-length skirt; Josephine notes that the neckline and sleeves are cut more modestly than what Orlesian styles tend toward, for which she is grateful. The main fabric of the gown is a very exquisite, very special grey, almost white; a luminous velvet, it verily glows, as softly and subtly as the full moon on a clear night. It is trimmed and offset with lustrous copper-coloured satin, at the cuffs, and on the panels of the bodice. It is utterly, utterly beautiful.

“I… I hope this is all right, with you,” Arriette says nervously. “The Inquisition servant tried to give our staff the gown you had laid out in your quarters, but Madame de Fer absolutely insisted on this…..”

Josephine shakes her head. “This is… this is incredible. Vivienne has immaculate taste. I am very lucky she chooses to bestow it on me, though I will admit, I do not know what I have done to deserve it.”

Arriette looks relieved. “She has been most solicitous of your care, today,” she says. “She planned every detail of your itinerary. You must be very good friends.”

Josephine shakes her head again. She is baffled by this — by Vivienne’s attentiveness, by her generosity — but she is hardly going to question it now.

Arriette helps Josephine to change into the gown, as it is not the type of garment one can get into without at least one extra set of hands. Vivienne has also sent along accessories: copper-coloured stockings, a reticule and gloves in the same extraordinary pale grey velvet as the gown. She has, Josephine notes with relief, sent along some of Josephine’s own things: a corset and smallclothes, dancing slippers whose rich brown leather will go very well with the copper of the gown, a pearl necklace, hair ornaments of silver and garnet.

The gown, of course, fits perfectly. Josephine feels completely, perfectly beautiful, even with her hair undone and still damp, even without jewels or cosmetics. Arriette takes up all the remaining accessories. “Please follow me,” she says, and leads Josephine through hallways they have not yet been down, to a room lit with many lamps. 

Josephine is seated on a chair before a large mirror. A middle-aged man with impeccable clothing and perfectly coiffed hair appears. “Good evening, Ambassador,” he says, his voice deep and calm, his accent foreign — likely from the Free Marches, Josephine guesses. “Oh! Your gown is simply stunning. And these hairpins will suit it perfectly…. I’m thinking, perhaps a modified Orlesian twist, with the ends trailing…” He moves the mass of Josephine’s hair about this way and that, and they chat about what will look best. They settle on a relatively elaborate style — to suit the gown — with a number of small braids being worked into a formal knot on the crown of the head. As her hair is expertly smoothed and tamed into this style, Josephine chats with Erik (as he introduces himself) about court gossip, about the city, about fashion. It is very pleasant, and Josephine is immensely happy with her hair, bound up in an elaborate-looking knot, with glints of silver and garnet sparkling throughout.

She is almost sad to see Erik go. But the cosmetologist arrives shortly thereafter, and Josephine finds herself eager to see what can be done with her face to prepare for the evening, it will not do to be bare-faced, not tonight, when Josephine knows that the members of the Inquisition will be expected to go unmasked. She needs to be prepared.

The cosmetologist is a human about Josephine’s age, and utterly androgynous. They are dressed in the same white shift and trousers as all of the spa staff, but they somehow make the uniform seem elegant and polished… next to them, Josephine feels almost unacceptably flamboyant in her gown. They are also perfectly made up, wearing enough cosmetic to highlight their striking features, but done so perfectly that it looks like a natural and expected part of their face.

“I think,” they say, not introducing themself, “perhaps a bold lip, and more subtle eye, for this. We’ll let your natural beauty be the main element, but a colourful lip will make for a more formal look… yes?”

Josephine smiles. “Oh, yes!”

The cosmetologist works precisely, with sure, deft touches. They apply impossibly subtle colours to the contours of Josephine’s face, making her skin look luminous and smooth, but not covering any of her freckles or beauty marks. They expertly line Josephine’s eyes with kohl, then apply a black balm to her eyelashes, allowing it to dry so that her eyes are accentuated, but not overdone. Finally, they apply a rich burgundy colour to Josephine’s mouth, layering the colour on after a preparatory unguent, so it will last all night. They give a small pot of the colour to Josephine, for re-application. “Apply a thin layer with your fingertip,” the cosmetologist instructs. “If you want to get a deeper colour, apply multiple layers, but don’t just glop it on like a child playing grown-up.” They look appraisingly at Josephine’s face. “You do look absolutely stunning,” they say, and Josephine has to restrain a pleased smile. “You’ll break a few hearts tonight, I’ve no doubt. All right, then. Do me proud!” they say with a wave, and a small smile, as they leave.

Arriette approaches. “You have a short time before the carriage will come to take you to the ball. Will you come to the waiting room?”

The waiting room is unlike any other in the spa. It is much more like a Val Royeauxian restaurant or club. It is decorated with rich draperies, and the furniture is much more ornate than elsewhere in the spa. People are chatting at small tables — the first time Josephine has heard conversation all day. Candles glow on each table, and torches light the periphery of the room. Arriette leads Josephine to a table for one next to a window, and Josephine sees that the are on a mezzanine level, overlooking a main street.

“I will leave you now,” Arriette says, “and a waiter will be here shortly to bring you anything you would like to eat or drink… though you should keep in mind that your carriage will be here in half an hour. One of the doormen will come to collect you at that time. Your clothing and your traveling case are already being sent to your quarters. Is there anything else you need from me, before I leave you?”

“No, no thank you,” Josephine says. “It has been a most wonderful day, above any expectations or hopes I might have had.”

Arriette smiles. “That is precisely what I like to hear. Very well. I hope you have a wonderful evening, Ambassador.”

“Thank you, I shall.”

When the servant comes, Josephine orders sparkling water — she does not wish to imbibe anything that will make her feel sluggish later on. As she sips her drink, she looks out over the street, sees people in gowns and suits and masks hurrying on the sidewalk. She sees carriages, and people on horseback. The veilfire lamps have been lit, both on the street and in the buildings Josephine can see. The night is coming alive in Val Royeaux.

She feels absolutely _wonderful_. She is physically relaxed and balanced. She feels exquisitely beautiful, her skin soft and radiant, her face and hair perfect, her gown stunning. She was already looking forward to this evening’s ball, and now, she can hardly wait to make her entrance.

As she finishes her sparkling water, a doorman arrives. “Ambassador? Your carriage is waiting.”

Josephine smiles, and rises, and follows him out into the night.

*＊✿❀✿＊*

Josephine is arriving fashionably late, which is precisely as it should be. As she enters, she can feel eyes on her; it is a giddy feeling, one she remembers from the few times she was both powerful and beautiful enough to command such attention. Moving confidently through the crowd, she finds the new Antivan ambassador to Orlais, her host for the evening, and greets him warmly, full of easy confidence. She chats with him briefly, gracious and charming, then moves on — ostensibly so that she does not rudely monopolize the host’s attention, but more truly because the man is relatively dull, and Josephine she finds she wishes for more lively company.

Allowing herself to settle into the familiarity of the Game, Josephine makes a tour of the room, allowing the energy of the gathering to guide her steps. She smiles and exchanges brief greetings with a few people, but does not stop. Soon, though, the energy coiling around a certain person draws her over, and Josephine _does_ stop, for she has found Vivienne.

“My dear Josephine! How are you?” Vivienne asks. She is resplendent in a blood-red gown, close-fitting and low-cut, wearing a matching half-mask and sweeping headdress; she looks magnificent.

Josephine, though, also feels magnificent. She knows that she and Vivienne make quite the picture, together, and she is more than pleased to see her. “I am quite extremely well,” she says happily, “as I am sure you have guessed.”

“How wonderful,” Vivienne says, then takes Josephine’s arm. “You must tell me all about it.” She begins to walk them about the room, turning her head toward Josephine, indicating to others that they were not to be interrupted. “I take it you ended up enjoying your spa day, despite your initial objections?” she asks in a low voice.

“Most assuredly,” Josephine says. “I have seldom been so relaxed, so pampered. Everything was perfect. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Darling, you are most welcome, and I am so pleased you were able to take the reservation.”

“Yes. And… the gown. I… it is really too much — ”

“Please, don’t mention it,” Vivienne says, waving her free hand expressively. “You do so much for the Inquisition. For all of us. You work far too hard, and you don’t take the time you deserve to tend to yourself, not in any really indulgent way. I knew you would be wearing one of your gowns tonight — all perfectly serviceable gowns, in which you look quite lovely, of course.” Vivienne shrugs, an elegant rise and fall of her shoulders. “I simply wanted you to have a little something _extra_. You deserve to be happy for your own sake, not merely because you’re accomplishing something for the Inquisition. Now, you should go show off your new gown,” Vivienne says, letting go of Josephine’s arm in a way that directs her toward a decorative pillar….

…Where Leliana and Cassandra are standing. Leliana looks beautiful, as always, wearing a gown the colour of roses, elegant and understated, yet unmistakably sensual. Cassandra has apparently insisted, stubbornly, on wearing more practical attire, though someone has evidently convinced her to don her formal Seeker attire. Josephine stares, a little — Cassandra strikes a very dashing figure in her form-fitting velvet-trimmed leather, looking chivalrous and strong….

“Josie, you look absolutely dazzling,” Leliana says, moving toward her. She takes both of Josephine’s hands and gives her a frankly appreciative once-over. Stepping closer, she smiles conspiratorially. “Please, come here and visit with Cassandra and me, just for a bit. She is being her usual irritable self. You are the only person amiable enough to charm her into better behaviour.” Leliana tugs her toward where Cassandra stands, leaning against the pillar, her arms crossed.

As they approach, Cassandra uncrosses her arms, and stares rather nervously at Josephine. Josephine feels a rush of pleasure, finds herself quite enjoying Cassandra’s evident attention and interest. Perhaps she is mistaken… perhaps it means nothing. But tonight, Josephine feels so lovely and bright, so bold and fearless, that she steps directly toward Cassandra and holds out her hand as she would to any chivalrous knight.

Josephine’s gamble pays off: Cassandra, hesitating, blushing so fiercely that her _ears_ are red, takes Josephine’s hand and brings it to her lips. “I… I… good evening, Lady Montilyet,” she manages to say, not letting go of Josephine’s hand.

Josephine smiles, and curls her fingers around Cassandra’s. “Good evening, Seeker Cassandra,” she says, a little teasing with the formal title. “Leliana tells me you are not enjoying yourself tonight…?”

Cassandra cannot keep a scowl off her face, though she reins it in quickly. “I have never enjoyed such events. And… my temper does sometimes get the better of me, when I am forced to speak with asinine nobles. I do not even know why Leliana and Vivienne insisted I _be_ here.”

“Oh dear,” Josephine says sympathetically. “Yes, these evenings _can_ be rather tedious. But, I think, there are _some_ things to recommend them….” She steps closer, and slips her arm into the crook of Cassandra’s elbow. “Come with me, let us look at the architecture and listen to the music for a little while, just the two of us.”

Cassandra looks both alarmed and pleased. Josephine gives her another smile. As they walk, Josephine catches Vivienne’s eye; the mage gazes back with something like approval on her face, and Josephine’s smile widens. She will certainly have to think of something wonderful, to thank Vivienne for this day… but for tonight, she is on the arm of a gorgeous and dashing Seeker, she feels wonderful, and she fully intends to enjoy every moment.


End file.
